Guardian Light In The Night
by Zombie Cat Scientist
Summary: What if Hiccup met the Light Fury first, years ago before he met Toothless, and she took on the role of his secret guardian? (Because I couldn't find much of any Light Fury fic. Feel free to steal the idea if you want.) Alt Title: Not Every Dragon Can Be Trained.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Every Dragon Can Be Trained**

**or**

**The Guardian Light In The Dark**

**Summary: **_Okay, so __there are like nearly zero fics about the Light Fury? Am I the only one who kinda liked her? I know the ending of the movie sucked but I kind of liked her wild and feral personality._

This fic is about what if Hiccup met the Light Fury before he met Toothless, as a child? Mostly fluffy, possibly a oneshot since I'm not expecting a lot of interest if the fact there isn't even enough interest in her for there to be a Light Fury character tag is any indication.

Note: There is a piece of ASCII art (juuuust a little, it's a pain in the rear because FF eats everything), be sure to view on widescreen with default font if possible. May not display right for everyone, just... skip over it if that happens.

* * *

It was supposed to be the story of a child.

Her child.

Instead, everything went wrong, and she found solace in someone else's, as funnily shaped their hatchling might be.

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Her nest was precious to her, as all nests are, but it was not enough to stop them from coming. As they had for the previous nest, and the nest before that. She fled, she flew from place to place, but it was never enough. Somehow, over the years, the hunters always found her new home, and always gave her grief. The old, wily white beast watched her mates, meant to be for life, die each and every time.

When she fled, she always felt like a coward.

She meant to kill the little one at first. They took so many of hers, why not one of theirs?

It came upon the grief of hearing a great, child like singing that filled her with hope: it sounded exactly like her children, her lost ones, her loves. But it turned out to be a lie. Not every bird falls for their cuckoo, and she had lived too long and too fierce to fall for the draconic equivalent. When she saw the blue monstrosity, not yet the size of a mountain in those days but slowly growing to be, she felt nothing but rage. It was too big for her to take on solo, so she redirected it upon one of the raids on the hunters, despite her total lack of interest in giving the cuckoo dragon any tithe.

With a bright, lethal light firing from the dark, she killed without mercy.

With one exception.

The small, mewling child.

Camouflaged as she was, it would have been so easy. One snap, with no one even looking over, and none would even be the wiser until morning what had happened. But that was exactly it. No one was looking. They were all too distracted and busy. And the note of distress in the little one's voice said this was not the first time it was neglected for more important things. It had wandered and gotten lost in the raid, easy pickings, but instead of finishing it off she growled at a Nadder that came too close. Her imagination caught, she wondered, for a moment, if this was a second chance.

A lost mother. A lost child.

No. What would she even feed it? She knew nothing of the hunter's children. It had family here, however easily distracted they might be. This was folly. She was folly. Softly, she picked it up and deposited it back inside it's house, and snarled off any other dragon that came near. The humans might be too stupid and nose-blind to notice her, but the other dragons weren't. They might not comprehend why she wasn't eating him, for meat was meat to the great Cuckoo Queen, but they comprehended that she had claimed him, and none but the cuckoo dragon herself would dare challenge her, and that one was rapidly growing so fat she doubted it would ever fly here.

The child gasped and squirmed at being picked up by a nearly invisible being in the dark, then stilled when placed in the crib.

"Mom?" they asked in that strange language of theirs, and she stilled, her heart threatening to break. "Did you come back as a ghost to protect me?" they whispered in reverent awe.

She gave a soft coo, and was rewarded with one of their strange lip expressions, a smile. No, little one, she was not your mother's ghost, but she might as well be. What harm, she decided, would it do to watch over this one as a guardian light in the night?

No one else need ever know.

The raid drawing to a close and the light of dawn drawing nearer than she liked, she reluctantly drew their secret meeting to a close and leaped off into the dwindling of the night, already planning to visit tomorrow's dusk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Not Every Dragon Can Be Trained**

**or**

**The Guardian Light In The Dark**

**notes:**_ Okay, wasn't expecting to get reviews right off the bat. I gueesss I can continue, I've got some muse, and I guess even for a one shot that was a bit too short. Be prepared for moar bad ASCII art._

* * *

Her boy, she noticed, was a bit of a mess.

He appeared to be some sort of runt, always getting picked on, and it didn't help that it seemed like he was always clumsily knocking things over. She watched either from a distance, in the foggy mornings, or at night, when her camouflage worked its best, but this was thoroughly sufficient to paint a picture of the little one's life. He was definitely a male. He liked his fish cooked, which was just bizarre. He was not yet training to be a dragon killer, but he was going to be.

She was not quite sure how to feel about the last one, watching him play with little axes and wooden swords and stumbling, often pushed by the other children. She did intervene, from time to time: when she growled or mysteriously tripped them up, they gave the most satisfying screams.

"You know all those weird things happening? Well, that's my mom, and she's totally going to beat the snot out of you Snotlout if you do that again!"

"Don't only bad people get ghosts haunting them? What you do, Hiccup, forget your bedtime?" This bedtime reference made no sense to her, so she did not respond.

She'd wonder why she was doing this. Then he'd call her mother, her heart would melt and say, just this time, just this time she'd ignore that they were playfighting at killing dragons.

"She's real! I promise you, she came back because she loves me! ..._like nobody else does_," he whispered the last so quietly only a dragon's sensitive ears could pick it up.

"Yeah, suuuure. You've got something freaky going on, but I don't think it's your mom Dude," the lout of snot declared. The twins pushed Hiccup over and they all ran laughing and pre-emptively screaming before she could growl at them.

He went from being called 'Hiccup' to 'That Freaky Hiccup Who Believes in Ghosts', and 'Haunted Hiccup'.

She really wasn't sure what to do, as she peered over him in concern.

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One thing she liked about him was he always picked himself back up.

.

She gave him half eaten fish sometimes, because he was too scrawny.

He didn't eat them.

No wonder he was scrawny.

.~~/~\~.

3...~~~`~`~~~{o}~o

/3 /3

The giant one who shared a nest with him sometimes left her flower offerings. It was quite strange, and she was not quite sure what to do with them, but thought they might be some sort of food offering as she observed the hunters sometimes ate plant based foods. To be polite, she took giant bites out of it.

The giant one looked very dismayed afterward at the ruined flowers, and she decided she must have been mistaken.

{-o-}

VV|VV

\|/

The little one grew, and wasn't _quite_ as little any more.

This made no difference to the ostracism, or his clumsiness. Eventually, she noticed something. When he handled things unconsciously, he tended to use his left hand. When he was in front of everyone else, he tended to use his right. One night, when he was practicing his swings and fell over again, and did a lousy impression of a growl, asking "Why do I keep failing at this?" she did something she was sure she would regret.

She picked up the mock weapon and placed it in his left hand.

"Thanks." He put it in his right.

She yanked it out of his hand.

"What? Now you don't want me to practice?" Well, no, actually, but that wasn't the point she was trying to make...

She placed it back into his left hand.

"You want me to use my left hand?" he asked, surprised. "Huh. Why didn't I ever think of that?"

He swung.

This time, he didn't miss the mock target, and she wondered what horrible thing she had done.

.

.

.

They picked on him less when he hit back a bit better.

But only a little. It was like they just wanted someone to tease, and Hiccup (was that a name or an insult? she wasn't sure) was always quite easy to rile up. The twins, always more adventurous and lacking sense than the rest, quickly realized she was more bark than bite. She wasn't very interested in hurting children, after all.

Only savages like hunters would do something like that.

She appeared less and less often to him. But his father paid a bit more attention to him. He would be alright, she assured herself.

Yet he looked out the window one night, bit his lip, and said, "Did I do something wrong?"

And she wished she could speak and tell him everything. Instead, she had to settle for the only method of communication she had. She yanked the mock-weapon out of his hand again, and tossed it into a bush.

"What the heck was that supposed to mean? Okay, okay, maybe I hit Tuffnut today, but the twins totally deserved it!" Silence. "I'm sorry, okay?"

He just didn't understand.

She yanked the weapon out of his hands for several nights in a row, until finally, he asked his father-hunter, "Did Mom not like hurting dragons?"

And the giant hunter looked incredibly pained and not stoic at all. "I always worried you would ask that question. What you must always remember, Hiccup, is that dragons slayed your mother. You must become strong, so that they don't take you too. You've been doing so much better lately, son. Promise me. I couldn't bear to see ye die. Promise me."

"I..."

Her ears flattened in dismay.

"One day, we'll be able to get our revenge. Together."

"I promise."

She fled.

.

.

.

One day she scented something new on the horizon, a relative of her kind.

A Night Fury. Young, inexperienced, he was fully under the sway of the monster, and had no appeal to her.

The Light Fury kept her distance.

It seemed in all the world, she was all alone.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Not Every Dragon Can Be Trained**

**or**

**The Guardian Light In The Dark**

* * *

_Notes: I still can't believe there's no Light Fury tag. Surprised to see this got reviews from Light Fury fans in spite of that - how did you even find this? Sheer luck? I know it can't have stayed in the recent stories for very long and it doesn't have enough words yet to show up on most of the filters.  
_

_Someone commented they'd like her to go away for awhile and be surprised by Hiccup, and I may yet do that, but first for this chapter I have more Child!Hiccup ideas. Another commented they liked that she didn't go for Toothless just because he was an available male: I was just trying to keep her in-character, as she wasn't exactly immediately impressed by Toothless in the movie either. It's one of the things that made me like her enough to want to write her, actually._

* * *

Oswald the Agreeable was coming to re-sign the treaties, and that meant one, horrible, obnoxious thing. His son was coming over too.

_Dagur._

Dagur had always tormented Hiccup every time he had met him, for as long as Hiccup could remember, even when they were toddlers. The only one who had been able to moderate him had been his sister, but she disappeared very young and Hiccup could no longer remember what she looked like and Dagur had only escalated once she'd left. The adults were too busy with business to care about 'mere boyish roughhousing'. But in Hiccup's opinion, this wasn't your usual level of bullying. Dagur had once tried to _drown him! _The twins and Snotlout might be rough, but they didn't go full blown attempted murder.

However, Hiccup had been training a bit and was a little more agile than before now that he'd realized he was left handed. Maybe, he prayed, this time would finally make the difference. Because he certainly couldn't rely on Ghost to save him.

She'd disappeared.

He didn't know why, though he feared he'd made Mum horribly angry by training, and he felt disappointed with himself that he'd ever made that promise. What was he supposed to do, break it? He hadn't even promised to hurt dragons, just to train to become stronger, but it seemed like she hadn't interpreted it that way. And Hiccup was no oath-breaker. If he was, that would be a great way to get exiled, and he was constantly feeling like Berk's community was looking for any excuse. He was sure his dad wouldn't over something so small made as a child, but it wasn't exactly a habit he wanted to get into and he really didn't want to give anyone any reason to think even lesser of him than they already did, not when his reputation was finally inching above 'earthworm'.

"Hey Hiccup, are you ready to see a REAL future Viking Chief? You must be so jealous!" Snotlout was a massive Dagur fan, which was somewhat strange considering Dagur could never be bothered to even remember Snotlout's name, mispronouncing it as Snothat or Snotboat at every opportunity. Sometimes Hiccup suspected Dagur did it on purpose, as there were not exactly that many Viking children on Berk their age for Dagur to have to remember.

"No, Snoutlout, I am not jealous. I'm ready and eager to show him how much more skilled I am." He managed not to stutter.

"You sure don't sound enthused," Ruffnut exclaimed, hanging off the roof of a hut she and her brother had climbed on to. She wasn't a big fan of Dagur since he kept confusing her with her brother and calling her a boy, but she wasn't terrified of him the same way Fishlegs was, who was currently hiding in his house and refusing to come out, claiming he was busy.

"No, look at this, all of this!" he gestured at himself. "100% enthused, this is! This is my fearsome Viking face!"

Ruffnut and Tuffnut laughed. "Riiight. You'll never be fearsome anything, especially now you don't even have that dang ghost following you." Then they paused a little uncertainly, not wanting to get suddenly knocked over by a mysterious force for teasing Hiccup. "She's gone, right?"

"Yeah, she's gone," Hiccup sighed.

"Cheer up man, any normal person would be GLAD not to be haunted by a ghost!"

"He is right," Astrid said, hanging back quietly and looking rather bored. "But enough of that. I see a ship."

"WHERE?" Snotlout and the twins ran eagerly to the shoreline, punching and shoving each other to get a look-see first at the coming arrivals. "I hope they brought something really cool as presents!" yelled Snotlout.

"You realize if anyone is getting a present, it's probably Hiccup, right?" Astrid said dryly, walking calmly toward the docks. Hiccup shuddered at the thought of Dagur 'delivering' a present. He'd probably impale him with it.

"Ugh! Why does stupid Hiccup have to get anything first just because he's the chief's son?"

"Didn't you half answer your question with your question? He's the chief's son, that's all the reason there needs to be to it," Astrid scoffed.

Hiccup felt sick to his stomach and wondered if it was too late to slink off and hide...

"Hiccup!" Stoick called. "Get yer rump down here so you can properly greet our guests and give Oswald's little boy someone teh play with!"

...definitely too late. He sighed again.

The scrawny boy waited patiently and didn't flinch when, the moment the first plank was lowered, a small but definitely not scrawny red headed figure shot out across it and bolted right for him with a manic grin. "Hiccup! You've barely grown!"

_I wish I could say the same to you._

"Hiccup, be polite!" Stoick scolded.

"It's nice to see you again," Hiccup said flatly, trying to be emotionless rather than full on disdainful.

"It's great to see you too, _buddy," _Dagur said with a shark-like grin.

"Someone said there might be presents. Please tell me you didn't get anything for Hiccup!" Snotlout begged.

"Presents? Why," Dagur smirked. "I've definitely got some presents. Why don't I show them to you?" he said with glee and lifted up his cloak to show rows of daggers, picking one up and throwing it at him.

Hiccup, not being stupid, bolted the moment he saw the daggers.

Oh Snotlout, why did you have to give him ideas?

"Dagur, don't play too rough now!" Oswald said with concern.

"I'm not!" Dagur insisted. "I'm merely scaring him a bit. Deserves to be toughened up, doesn't he?"

"I 'pose he does," said Stoick, and for once in his life Hiccup really wanted to strangle his father, despite the impossibility of even wrapping his tiny hands around his meaty neck, as much as Dagur claimed to want to strangle his. Well, okay, maybe not that much. He was sure even on his worst day he could never be as randomly and dementedly homicidal as Dagur could.

Snotlout laughed, Astrid glowered when Dagur looked in her direction and said: "If you dare put one dagger in my direction I'm putting my axe up your ass, Chief's son or no. And axes are bigger than daggers."

Dagur scowled. "One day I'll get my revenge on you, Hofferson, for daring to talk to me like that."

Yessss, please be distracted by Astrid and pick a fight with her instead, someone who was actually good at fighting back! Hiccup tried to slink off unnoticed into the forest while this conversation was going on, but unfortunately his movement caught Dagur's attention again.

"Oh no, not so fast! I'm not done 'delivering' my gifts to you, dearest ally!"

Hiccup ran through the woods, and though he managed to escape most of them, he couldn't help but yelp as one sliced past his shoulder and nicked him at an angle before rotating and smacking him with the flatside. It really damn stung, and oozed red terribly where it didn't welt pink. He tried to scrabble up a rock and hide behind the other side but wasn't quite fast or strong enough and slid back down, and another dagger pinned him to a tree trunk to one side of the rock. He tried to tug loose, couldn't, and turned, presenting his own small sword. "Get back, Dagur, I've gotten better at fighting!"

"Sure you have, that's why you ran away first!" Dagur laughed. "Besides, I don't need to get any closer, I quite like you where you are and can aim from right here." He held up another dagger.

Realizing there was no escape this time and afraid he really might die, Hiccup screamed as the blade was thrown toward him.

It never made it to him.

_Something _that sounded quite massive knocked Dagur to the ground before he could fully finish his blow, roaring. It was Dagur's turn to scream as red welts appeared on his own shoulder in mirror of where Hiccup had been marked, and despite his previous predicament Hiccup still felt afraid. He wanted Dagur to stop tormenting him, not to get eaten alive and possibly end their village's alliance! Dagur tried to stab with a dagger, but the ghostly figure pinned both of his arms swiftly and efficiently like an experienced fighter.

"DRAGON!" Dagur screamed, and he could hear noises now of confused adults from the village starting to come to investigate.

Wait, ghostly. Could it be?

His ghost?

"Ghost! Drop him, please! Our village alliance needs him!"

"It's not a ghost, you fool, it-" Dagur took a sharp, surprised breath as it suddenly vanished and sat up. "Oh. Maybe it is a ghost?"

Oswald and Stoick ran toward them, carrying weapons and shouting, "What happened here?"

"It was my ghost, again, Dad. Dagur got too rough," he displayed his cut mark, "and I think it defended me."

"A ghost, Stoick?" Oswald said skeptically. "Haven't heard of one of those in a long time."

"Ah," Stoick began with an edge of embarrassment. "Something has been following and protecting Hiccup, goodness knows the boy gets into enough trouble and mayhem to need it. We believe it might be the specter of his lost mother, Valka, seeking to protect her boy better than she did the day she died. It's possible, at least. After all, something had to have done that to yer boy," he gestured at the mirroring wound on Dagur. It was kind of uncanny how closely they matched, actually, which was exactly how one would expect a vengeful spirit to act.

There was one tiny difference, however.

"This bit here looks an awful lot like a toothmark," Oswald noted. "A dragon's, at that. Odd for a ghost."

"We didn't see any dragon," Hiccup jumped in. "And my mother was apparently very fond of dragons."

"Fond of dragons, yet slain by one? Yes, I can see how that might drive one mad enough to turn into a ghost." Oswald shook his head. "Your beloved wife or not, a mad ghost is no good thing to have haunting a village. Ye need to put her to proper rest, before she escalates."

"I- you're right," Stoick muttered miserably. "There was no body, so there was never a proper send off to sea. But we could still do a ritual."

"You should have, that's your problem right there," Oswald said sharply, then softened. He wasn't called the Agreeable for nothing. "I don't mean to beat on you, Stoick, I can understand how with no body you might on some level still be hopeful after all these years. But you need to let go."

Stoick's eyes watered, and he sniffled and then sobbed. "I know, Oswald, I know. I'll do it tonight right after we re-sign the treaty."

Dagur made a small, disgusted noise and a gagging face at Hiccup, who resisted the urge to punch him, mostly due to his sense of self preservation. After tonight, with any luck, he wouldn't have a ghost protecting him any longer.

It was time to say goodbye forever to his mother. He just... wished he wasn't a disappointment to her before she went, that they could have left off on a better note. Hiccup tried to to think of anything that she might like, something that would make a nice goodbye.

Oh! That might do it!

A smile on his face, he ran, managing to forget even about Dagur, who startled in surprise to see Hiccup run off _smiling_ for once. Dagur would probably behave for a little while, at least until he knew the ghost was gone, and this was too important to care too much about him anyway. He was finally going to make her happy again.

* * *

The Light Fury had promised to stay away, though in practice she kept periodically checking up on him and always had an ear out. It was this ear that had caught his first yelp and sent her running just in time to nearly have a heart attack as he screamed. What in the world had been going on with this strange foreign child? Was it normal for them to attempt to murder each other?

And why hadn't her small hatchling let her end him, despite what the brat had almost done? Had she misunderstood play?

It was with further confusion she watched him race around the village and enter his home nest, then go to the one with the missing leg and show something small she couldn't quite see to him. The Gobbling One (a title that when she had first heard it made her afraid he gobbled up children, but in the time since she had seen no sign of such a thing and if anything he looked after Hiccup more closely and carefully than any other adult) nodded, took it, made a demonstration, then handed it back.

Hiccup then excitedly raced back.

He was in his hut for quite some time and she grew bored watching, so she decided to check up on the strange new red hatchling to make sure it wasn't up to any more mischief, although if it was planning something on Hiccup she was not sure she'd be able to actually tell what with all the strange habits of the hunters.

To her horror, he was tormenting another hatchling.

_In a cage_.

Exactly like the hunters did to her own hatchlings, once. It sent her terrible flashbacks, of trying to rescue her little ones through thick bars, unaware they were already dying and poisoned until she smelled the death on their tiny little breath rather than just in the general stink around them, their cage full of decaying fish just like the cod-heads that had been thrown in with the boy today. She gave a mourning kreen, full of memories she could not forget as thick as the ugly numerous scars on her white body.

Dagur stopped, and the Fish Legged who was not actually possessed of legs made of fish Boy struggled harder, banging against the walls of his cage, "What was that? Let me out, please! Please!"

Dagur did his own impression of a growl, holding out his namesake weapon. "Stay back, whatever you are!"

Her growl was bigger and realer, little hunter. This was a contest you could not win.

Her mind flashed back to the horrors.

_Could not. Never again._

She blasted the cage open with a careful blast, then turned on Dagur with a snarl.

This time, the scream wasn't just from fear.

* * *

**A/n: Out of curiosity, does anyone here actually care if Dagur lives or dies? I already know what I'm planning.  
**

**In any case, you can see I'm fond of not 100% rehashing canon. I'm always very interested in unintended consequences of small events, and the Light Fury is very much a _wild_ dragon. She was never going to just sit tight and let Dagur attempt to murder Hiccup even if she was semi-miffed with him as long as she had any degree of parental attachment whatsoever.**

**I'm forced to conclude Stoick must win the oblivious parent of the year award if Hiccup actually almost drowned to that kid and nearly got stabbed on two separate occasions and he still invited the brat over to 'play'. Which is good for this fic I suppose or our Light Fury would be dead already from more observant Stoick.**

**I hope this doesn't make anyone dislike the Light Fury. She's just acting as a provoked animal that has been triggered - actually triggered into PTSD flashbacking, not the confused muddled online version trolls have watered the word down to these days to mean 'annoyed' or 'afraid'.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Not Every Dragon Can Be Trained**

**or**

**The Guardian Light In The Dark**

* * *

_Notes: **They have a light fury tag now!** I'm like, one of 5 fics total, hah, she's just swimming in popularity here you can tell. On other notes, my memory of the series isn't as good as it should be and I never saw some of the later episodes; someone mentioned Hiccup taking care of a baby bird? I can incorporate that. It seems like something he'd do.  
_

_Anyway, kudos for those who guessed correctly what I was planning next._

_This is pretty short. I'm a little low on muse at the moment and this is just setup for future events._

* * *

She did not kill him, but it was close. The whole island was in an uproar over how singed and mangled the boy was, but also of the story of what exactly had provoked the attack - Fishlegs being locked in a cage and tormented - had left many Berkians angry and some almost dangerously close to sounding like they _approved_ of the retribution, which wasn't good for political tensions.

"Stoick, this is too far. A bad omen like this, I cannot in good conscience resign the treaty at this time. Banish that damn ghost... if it is one. If it is a dragon, bring me the head and I'll resign the damn treaty." Dagur's father could not just ignore what happened.

The alliance between their two tribes was officially over. They were still at peace, but they were no longer allies. It was a devastating shock to an island that already had very little leeway for error and mishap in its yearly survival, what with the continual dragon raids and incredibly harsh winters. There had always, in lean times, been the possibility for calling for aid, with the expectations that they would do the same for other tribe in their own lean times. No longer. They were on their own.

Dagur swore revenge; just because his father wouldn't bring them to war, didn't mean he wouldn't when he inherited. His father promised to try to talk sense into the boy, but did not promise to punish him for Fishlegs: "He's already been punished enough, hasn't he? We're not even sure if he's going to keep all his limbs."

So. That was... something to look forward to.

Stoick set up a small boat with a candle, and Hiccup offered up a tiny dragon figurine he'd carved with Gobber's help.

"Ghost -" he started to say, then stopped, because that sounded far too impersonal. "Mother. Mom. This gift is for you, to help keep you company. You have to go now, forever okay? You can't keep showing up back here, no matter how much-" he struggled to get to his next words, "-how much I love you, okay?"

A soft warm breeze like a puff of hot breath blew over him, and he wondered if that was just his imagination or if it was her responding.

"You _have_ to. I know you were just defending us, but it's caused so much trouble. I can look after myself, I swear."

Hiccup thought he heard a derisive snort. "Okay, maybe not that well! But I'll stay alive, I promise. I've gotten stronger, and I have my dad and Gobber to look out for me."

Stoick watched with interest. "Just on the off-chance it is a dragon, would you say it is here now?"

Hiccup thought he heard a sharp in-take of breath.

"No," he lied.

He didn't know if he even wanted to know the truth. But he did know he did not want to betray her trust and have dad ruin the ceremony at the same time by swinging his axe like a hairy hooligan.

Stoick opened his mouth, like he wanted to argue, or say that he thought he had heard something, but he seemed to catch notice of the tears whelming up in Hiccups eyes and shifted awkwardly instead. "In that case, I think it's time," he said, and he picked up the little boat, lit the candle, and pushed it off into the sea with the tiny dragon figurine on it. Far off in the distance, just as the waves were threatening to sink it, _something _seemed to yank the figurine into the air, although it could have been Hiccup's imagination: it was in the distance, after all. Then the boat descended into the depths.

"The spirits have accepted the offering," the Elder declared, and Hiccup closed his eyes. He wasn't sure if he was relieved, or horribly sad.

He couldn't help but replay his own words and the realization he carried with them: '-_how much I love you'._

The ghost was one of the few beings who had truly cared about him, even after he made her mad by training to fight dragons she still had protected him, still had drawn in comfortingly just now. And, he realized, he really did love her as a mother.

And he had just told her to go away forever.

"Alright men!" yelled Stoick, uncomfortable enough with feelings he didn't want to dwell on the moment any longer than he had to. "It's time to cut off the head of every dragon we find and send it to our ex-allies until their thirst for blood is satisfied!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Guardian Light in the Night**

* * *

_a/n; when someone said they saw fanart I got excited for a second as I thought they meant of this fic, then I realized they meant this concept, hah._

_I'm sorry people were disappointed Dagur didn't die. I wanted to set up a possible antagonist and thought he fit the role._

_The baby bird part being a deleted scene explains why I never saw it - I don't own a version with any extras!_

_Does anyone else find it more than slightly plothole-ish that night furies are these big horrors that 'no one comes back alive from and no one knows what they look like' but then in a later movie we find out humans killed all of them except Toothless? It's not like Berk is completely isolated, they do trade with other islands and surely would be interested in information on dragons. Perhaps they left poisoned food out for the furies, that would make some degree of sense, if furies were known to take food - but Toothless doesn't. Maybe, however, he learned the hard way not to._

* * *

She, of course, was not going to stand for dragons being slaughtered on her behalf. But she wasn't going to make things worse for Hiccup, either. So, while she took up the fight, she was very careful not to connect her two identities of dragon and ghost: as far as they were concerned, the ghost was gone and the shots fired out of the sky were by a night fury, rather than a light fury like herself.

She was not quite sure what to make of the strange little dragon figurine. It was not exactly useful, just sitting still when she rested it on the ground, but she did recognize it looked like one of her kin. Licking it made it clear it wasn't a food. But she put it in her usual nesting place anyway. It made her a little sad, really, like having an almost-hatchling.

"This is bad news, Stoick. It looks like we have not one Night Fury now, but two, and this second one... she's got a sharper mind, she's keener on protectin' the other dragons," No, she had a mind, period. "Since she showed up, we haven't killed a single dragon." Good.

"You really think it's a she, Gobber?"

"Aye, I'm worried it could become a breeding pair." Like she'd mate with someone who wasn't in their own mind. How disgusting. "We could soon have an infestation on our hands."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Aye, I do. The old one never took food for itself, but I noticed this one did, and there are more signs of them landing on the ground, too..." the crippled old man leaned in and whispered, and she could no longer, even with her keen hearing, make them out, for she was already at a distance.

.

It was not all sad news. Though she kept her distance, she noticed one day Hiccup with a small baby bird he was tending. It was sweet, and showed that despite his promise and training to become a killer, he had not quite changed to a monster yet.

A wary part of her was wondering if it was only a matter of time, though. After all, that very baby bird showed less fear and aggression to him than if it had been an injured adult. Babies of many a species were less aggressive. How long, then, until he turned into a true killer? He was already progressing much better in his swordsmanship than if she had never shown up, using his left rather than his right hand. Hiccup was mechanically gifted, too, experimenting with traps.

She recognized an old hated foe in the tangled leather and metal contraptions.

That was why she did not fall to the first traps set out for her.

But there was one that was different. No metal, no leather, only tantalizing fresh fish after she'd had a rather poor day of hunting, due to spending too much of her time protecting other dragons from attack instead. The work was, frankly, exhausting when they were so determined to throw themselves repeatedly into danger, but she felt some dragon had to do it. There was admittedly something a little odd about it - an extra tang of salt coated it, but salt was a familiar scent on fish from the sea.

She was very careful only to approach the whee hours of the night, almost near morning, well after the raids were done but before anyone would be inclined to wake up after the exhausting night. Cautious of a trap, she reached out to paw it then darted away.

Nothing happened.

Satisfied, she moved to take it into her jaws.

Something huge and black smacked into her with a whining, frantic keening, and she snarled as she dropped it. The Night Fury! How dare he interrupt her to take her prey! The thief could get his own! For his insolence, she delivered three slashes to his snout, and he danced back, crooning pitifully, yet when she reached down again for the food he launched himself between her and the food.

She slashed him, but he ignored her and turned his head and fired at the food, incinerating it into a crisp.

He wasn't even attempting to eat it! What was wrong with him? Who wasted perfectly good food?

Clearly, the Night Fury was completely driven insane by that blue cuckoo-dragon abomination. She was startled, though, to see his eyes looked clearer and more focused than they had in the entire time she'd known him. It didn't last, however. The commotion had attracted the humans, and as they poured out and the two dragons flitted away from the scene of the crime, his eyes slitted again.

"Damn it! They didn't take the bait!"

...bait?

So, it was a trap.

She stared at him with more mixed feelings now. He had saved her. For a moment, his mind had even been clear. But his mind was gone again, and he did not respond when she gave a low, tentative, thoughtful croon. It was like a hope of company had been tangled in front of her, then yanked away, for it was quite clear. The dragons here, for all her effort to defend them, were completely lost to her.

She was alone once more.

It was a familiar feeling. It was truly not the first time she'd thought, for a brief moment, she'd found company, only to have it stolen from her by a foe in what seemed like the very next moment.

The Light Fury would persevere, she would endure. For she had, countless years. The she-dragon did not need company, she told herself. She only craved it. And she could be patient. Eventually, an opportunity would present itself, and perhaps...

Perhaps she would get revenge on one of her old foes. That was beginning to sound as satisfying as anything else, even if she went down with them.


End file.
